


Safe and Warm

by SisAngel



Category: White Collar
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt Neal, Hurt/Comfort, Neal gets shot, Peter to the rescue, Rescue, Whump, locked in a freezer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 10:36:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4388552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SisAngel/pseuds/SisAngel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Mm...bleeding..." Neal breathed. "...m'scared, Peter..."</p>
<p>"I know. I know, buddy. You gotta hold on, okay? We're just around the corner." Peter said something about driving faster. "I'm coming. Okay, Neal? I'm coming for you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safe and Warm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [truthtakestime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/truthtakestime/gifts), [IuvenesCor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IuvenesCor/gifts).



> I could not have written this without the unyielding encouragement, excitement, and support of two of my very dear friends, Scrappy and DQ. You are valued and appreciated, my loves <3

"You're working with the FBI, aren't you?" Smith drew his piece and took aim without any warning.

The gun was shaking. Smith was nervous, but not afraid to pull the trigger. Neal knew this all too well. Smith was suspected of murdering his last partner, who had tried to cut a deal with the police in exchange for information about Smith's counterfeit operation. Smith had killed then, and he wasn't afraid to kill now to save his skin.

Neal kept his hands at his sides, careful not to make any sudden moves. His heart was pounding, but he forced his voice to remain steady. "No, Smith. I'm not."

"Then explain this." Smith pulled a silver pen from his pocket, and Neal's stomach flipped in anxiety. Smith pressed a button and his voice came from the pen, a recording of him relaying details of his operation to Neal just hours before. "It fell out of your pocket, Halden. Why else would you have this? Huh?"

"Security," Neal said, not missing a beat. "If you didn't cut me in, I was going to blackmail you." He figured this was better than being an FBI consultant, but he was wrong.

Smith's face grew bright red, a vein popping up on his neck. "You stupid bastard."

Neal held his hands up in defense, his fear finally making an appearance in his eyes. "Smith-"

A shot rang out in the empty restaurant and immediately pain tore through Neal's abdomen, cutting Neal off mid-sentence. Grabbing his stomach, he dared to look down, finding red blossoming across his shirt. He looked up at Smith in surprise and tried to grab the table beside him, but his shock-weakened body collapsed without warning and Neal dropped to the floor. Before he knew what was happening, Smith was grabbing him by the jacket collar and dragging him across the floor toward the door to the kitchen.

"I can't have anyone finding you yet," Smith grumbled, to himself more than Neal.

Neal sputtered and coughed to catch his breath, looking up at Smith as he continued to drag the CI into the back of the restaurant. "My partner... he always finds me..."

"Don't care," Smith said as he dropped Neal, letting his head hit the tile floor hard.

Neal watched as the room spun around him, trying to focus on Smith as he leaned over the CI, but before he could figure out what Smith was doing, everything faded to black, the last thing he heard being Smith's fading voice.

"By the time they find your body, I'll be long gone."

~~~

"Damn it, Neal," Peter grumbled, slamming his phone down on his desk.

Diana didn't hesitate to walk through the open door when she heard him curse. "What'd Caffrey do now?"

"He met with Smith a half hour ago, but he hasn't called and he's not answering his phone."

"Want me to run a trace?"

"Already tried, but he's turned off his GPS."

"Of course he did," Diana sighed, rolling her eyes.

Peter picked up his phone and dialed again, his gut turning in a way he didn't want to acknowledge. He knew something was wrong, but he didn't want to think about how bad it might be.

~~~

Neal's groggy mind began to come back from the darkness, pulled into the light by the sound of his phone ringing. His eyes, heavy and dry, blinked open. He was sitting up against a wall, and he was freezing to his core, an uncontrollable shiver running through his body. He clenched his jaw to stop his teeth from chattering, but his body still convulsed with shivers. Despite the chill, his entire torso was engulfed in burning pain, and each shiver sent agonizing electric shocks through his side. He knew he had to do something to get out of... he wasn't sure where he was. He looked around the dark room, a lit bulb hanging from the middle of the ceiling by a chain. Against the walls there were metal shelves, bags of bread and vegetables and meat sitting upon most of them. The bags were covered in ice, and as he continued to shiver he realized that he was, too. Flecks of ice had formed on his clothes and his arms. It was when looked down at his chest that he found the crisp white shirt he had put on that morning was covered in his blood, which was still steadily flowing from the hole in his stomach. This discovery made him aware of the fact that he was sitting in a puddle of his own blood. The sweat dripping from his face made the cold air sting as it hit his skin, making his chills worse. Was he in a freezer? His mind was too muddled to explain why he was here, or why he was bleeding. The only thought that was clear was that he needed to call Peter.

As if on queue, his phone rang again. With a groan he reached into his coat pocket, the movement causing more pain to shoot through him. The movement of his arm made the damaged muscles in his torso burn, forcing a whimpering groan from his chapped lips as he pulled his phone out of the inside pocket of his jacket. His arm dropped back down to the floor with the phone in his hand. Too weak to hold it up, Neal pressed the button to answer and then put it on speaker. He gripped the phone tight, his panic rising and restricting his ability to breathe. Peter's voice saying his name filled the room. He sounded worried, but his voice still gave Neal a sense of comfort. He knew that Peter would find him. He was his friend.

"Neal, can you hear me?"

Oh yeah, Peter was on the phone.

"Peter..." Neal mumbled through clenched teeth.

"Where are you?"

"I dunno. A free-freezer... I think..." he all but whispered. He didn't have the energy to force the words out any harder. "M'cold."

"A freezer?" Peter paused, and Neal could hear him talking to someone. "Neal, where's the last place you were? Do you remember?"

"Rest'rant." He couldn't remember why.

"What restaurant, Neal?"

Neal thought for a moment, his mind not quite working right. "I don't... can't remember."

He heard Peter barking orders, but couldn't quite make out what he was saying. "Just hold on, Neal. I've got your location. I'm on my way."

"Peter... I... been shot..."

"Shit," Peter whispered, then relayed the information to someone else. "How bad?"

"Mm...bleeding..." Neal breathed. "...m'scared, Peter..."

"I know. I know, buddy. You gotta hold on, okay? We're just around the corner." Peter said something about driving faster. "I'm coming. Okay, Neal? I'm coming for you."

~~~

The line went quiet, and Peter's stomach flipped with anxiety. "Neal? Neal. Damn it." Despite the silence, he kept the phone to his ear, just in case Neal said something.

"We're almost there, Boss," said Diana, as she swerved through the streets as fast as she could without losing control of the car, lights flashing and sirens blaring. "Just a few minutes."

Peter stared out the windshield, listening intently to the silent call in case Neal said anything. "He doesn't have a few minutes, Diana," Peter muttered. "He might already-"

"Shut up."

Peter looked over at his agent, shock and surprise in his eyes at her words and angry tone.

"With all due respect, Peter, shut the hell up. Neal's going to be fine." She paused, glancing at Peter from the corner of her eye. "He has to be."

Peter nodded, his mouth quirking up into a half smile.

A moment later they were pulling up to the restaurant, and Peter had put his phone away and was out of the car before it had fully stopped. The first through the front door, Peter drew his gun and cleared the open dining area before running toward the back, letting the other agents clear the rest of the building.

He reached the freezer, turning the latch and pulling the heavy door open as fast as he could. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of Neal, blue skinned and covered in a thin layer of frost, sitting in a puddle of his own blood. His head was lulled to the side, fingers curled tightly around his phone, his body completely still. He wasn't even shivering, and Peter knew that that was not a good.

"Get the medics in here, now!"

Peter was beside his friend in an instant, not seeming to notice that he was kneeling in Neal's blood. His shaking fingers touched Neal's neck, a gasp escaping Peter's lips at finding out just how cold his skin was. But there was a pulse. A light, fluttering pulse.

"Neal?" Peter whispered, not trusting his voice to be steady enough to speak any louder. "Neal, can you hear me? I'm here. I found you. You're gonna be fine." Peter swallowed, blinking back the tears threatening to blur his vision. "You're gonna be fine."

~~~

Neal wasn't sure when his eyes had closed, but when they opened, he was surrounded. He was being laid on his back on top of something soft, something warmer than the wall he had been leaning against. So warm that it was hot on his back. Three different people stood over him, all strangers, all doing various things to him, though he felt none of it. One of them was cutting his shirt open, another placing an oxygen mask over his face, and the third doing something to his hand, which he could not feel. But despite the confusion of seeing these strange people doing who knew what to him, he felt fine. Because in the corner of his eye, he saw him, standing out of the way but close enough to watch over him. Peter would keep him safe. Peter wouldn't let these strangers do anything to him that they weren't supposed to do. Peter would make sure that they helped him.

As if sensing Neal's eyes on him, Peter looked at his face, half smiling when he saw Neal staring back. The agent's voice was shaking when he spoke, but he knew Peter was telling the truth. He always told the truth.

"You're gonna be fine, Neal," he said, and Neal mustered the strength to smile back.

"Found me..." Neal breathed as the darkness began to close in around Peter's worried face.

~~~

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

The sound was beyond irritating, but wherever he was, it was warm, and he didn't feel a bit of pain. For this, he'd put up with the beeping. He heard someone sigh, followed by the turning of a page in a book.

"Oh, come on. I saw that coming six chapters ago! Isn't anyone original anymore?"

Mozzie. Neal's mouth twitched into a grin. Of course Mozzie was there.

"Mozz, where are we?" Neal mumbled, forcing his eyes to slowly open. There was a bright light streaming in through the widow, illuminating the stark white walls. He was lying down, tubes and wires all around him.

"Neal!" Mozzie jumped up from his seat, half startled, half excited. The book clattered to the floor, forgotten as Mozzie leaned over Neal with a smile. "You're in the hospital. Welcome back to the land of the living, my friend!"

Neal couldn't help but smile despite the lingering question looming over him. "What happened?"

"You were shot, locked in a freezer, and nearly bled slash froze to death, that's what." Though he tried, Mozzie couldn't hide the tears in his eyes or the waver of emotion in his voice. "You crashed three different times between the ride here and the surgery to remove the bullet. They didn't think you were going to make it, Neal."

Immediately the memories flashed through Neal's mind. He grimaced, gently touching where he'd been shot. It was heavily bandaged and sore, but not nearly as excruciating as it had been. "How long was I out?"

"Ten days." At Neal's wide eyes, Mozzie nodded to confirm that he was telling the truth. "The doctor wasn't sure if you were going to wake up."

There was a knock on the door, and Neal could hear Peter's voice before he had even entered the room. "Hey, Mozzie. El sent you some lasagna-" Peter stopped mid-sentence when he looked up and saw the two of them, Neal awake and Mozzie near tears. "You're awake," he breathed in disbelief.

Mozzie quickly wiped his cheeks dry and patted Neal's hand. "I'm gonna go get some coffee and see if they'll bring you something to eat, Neal. I'll be back in a bit."

"You should go home, Mozz. Get some rest," Neal suggested. "You look as exhausted as I feel."

Mozzie waved his hand dismissively, taking the cooler bag Peter was holding as he passed the agent. "Save your flattery. I'll be back soon."

Mozzie shut the door, leaving Peter and Neal alone.

Before Peter could say anything, Neal smiled. "I guess this makes it three and O."

Peter chuckled, moving to stand beside the bed. "You should try harder next time."

Neal laughed, a genuine smile lighting his eyes. "Did you catch Smith?"

Peter nodded. "And added attempted murder to his charges."

"Good," Neal nodded, visibly relaxing. He looked at his friend, awkwardly fiddling with the hem of his blanket. He was never any good at showing his true emotions, but he knew Peter deserved it. "Thank you for finding me, Peter."

"It's my job," Peter shrugged, brushing it off as nothing, for both their sake.

"How did you find Smith? Please tell me you shot him."

Peter chuckled, welcoming the change of topic. He pulled up the chair Mozzie had vacated, smiling brightly. "In the ass."

"Ooh," Neal chuckled. "God, I wish I'd been there."

The two settled in, Peter regaling Neal with the story of how they'd caught his shooter. Neal listened intently. With the blankets pulled up to his chin, Neal felt warm. And with Peter by his side, he felt safe.


End file.
